On our holiday, the Exodus group walked from Bomerano to Amalfi. As Bomerano is halfway up a mountain, it involved a lot of downhill, as well as some ups. The mountain paths seem designed for mules rather than mortals: they mainly consist of steps – about 2000 in total down to sea level – quite demanding on the legs. Our guide recommended when we were about three quarters of the way down that if one of our legs was suffering more than the other, that we should lead with that one on the steps. Most of us had been doing the opposite and were pleasantly surprised to discover he was right! My left leg was starting to feel a bit worse for wear after several hundred steps, which is perhaps not surprising, given that I broke it about sixteen months ago. I was gardening at the time, wielding the electric hedge trimmer, when my left foot got jammed against the edge of the path, causing me to lose my balance and fall gracefully over, making sure I did not damage the trimmer on the way. Happily the electricity cut out – but my leg snapped as I went.
As I had heard the snap, I knew my leg was broken, but didn’t want to leave the garden a mess, so I hopped over to the nearby green wheelie bin, which I was able to use as a Zimmer frame, while I gathered up the branches I had cut and put the trimmer in the shed. I then went indoors where I had to crawl, as I didn’t want to bring the handy wheelie inside. I got to my computer to look up what facilities there are in Canterbury for managing a broken leg, and was delighted to discover that it is considered a minor injury and could probably be dealt with at the Minor Injuries Unit at Kent and Canterbury Hospital. I had no wish to end up at A&E in Ashford or Margate unnecessarily. I phoned for a taxi and having grabbed Stew’s trekking pole from the hall as I crawled out, was at the hospital in five minutes. I managed to walk in using the stick, but was pretty miffed when the triage nurse asked me “Do you usually need a stick to walk, dear?” After an X-ray, my diagnosis was confirmed, the leg was plastered and I was ready to go within about an hour and a half. Stew had been out walking with his chums that day, but I reckoned he would be home by then, so I phoned him and asked him to fetch me home, which he did – although not very promptly because he managed to get involved in a very unlikely traffic jam on the way. He is still sticking to his story about that, however!
I am very lucky that I had such a straightforward break that was not displaced. I can think of three friends who have also broken their left legs in the last year or so, who have not had it so easy. One broke hers in the shower, one walking down her garden path and one of Stew’s walking chums broke his walking through a wood. It does seem that extreme sport is not necessary for breaking your left leg! I don’t know about the right.
I think my leg will serve me alright. I understand that there are no stone steps on Kili, so I don’t have to worry about that one. So it’s onwards and upwards.
When Martin was learning to do stairs again after breaking his hip etc. last year, the physio’s advice was the same as your guide’s, Sheila.
She had a pithy little phrase to remind people which leg to lead with – “Good leg up to heaven, bad leg down to hell!”
Glad to hear there are no steps on Kilimanjaro – hills always seem kinder to the knees than steps.